


Red and Black (Reprise)

by emeraldsandrubies



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 02:43:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldsandrubies/pseuds/emeraldsandrubies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire gets drunk and sings a very sad reprise of "Red and Black" after his friends have gone home to prepare for their revolution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red and Black (Reprise)

**Author's Note:**

> Movieverse with whatever Brickverse stuff I’ve picked up from my friends who’ve actually read it. Virtually unedited, so feel free to correct any typos, historical inaccuracies, and non-canon-compliant-ness. Originally posted to my tumblr.
> 
> Warnings for alcohol and one swear word at the end.

_"Red… I feel my soul on fire…"_

They'd all gone home now, off to catch a little sleep in preparation for the start of their revolution the next day. Or, in Enjolras' case, to pore over his notes and letters and pamphlets again. He was probably writing a speech.

Grantaire was the last one left in the cafe. He'd seen Jehan and Combeferre glancing at him over their shoulders as they grabbed their coats, and knew they were trying to decide if it was worth the effort to drag him home. He'd raised a bottle cheerfully in their direction, and promised he'd just have one more drink, and that he wasn't yet too drunk to get home alone.

Well, he was now.

_"Black… my world if he's not there…"_

Grantaire giggled. It was funny, see, because everything actually was black. All the lamps had been put out, and Grantaire couldn't even see the bottle in front of him. This hadn't been an issue to start with, but it was becoming an increasing problem.

And of course Enjolras wasn't there. Grantaire was alone. This was nothing new; he spent more nights alone than not, no matter what he might brag around his friends. This night was no more lonely than any other.

Somewhere along the way, the giggle turned into a sob.

_"Red… the color of desire…"_

That was a joke, wasn't it. Grantaire, the pathetic drunk, head over heels for the noblest of men. His Apollo, the sun in his sky, distant and burning with warmth Grantaire could never quite reach. It was laughable, and Grantaire knew they certainly did laugh. Courfeyrac in particular had taken to shooting winks and knowing smirks across the room to Grantaire whenever Enjolras walked in. The rest of them were at least kind enough to ignore it all.

Enjolras, gods bless him, was either entirely oblivious, or pitied Grantaire enough to pretend to be so. At this point, Grantaire didn't much care which. He took another swig of wine.

_"Black… the color of despair…"_

You don't believe in anything, Enjolras had said. It wasn't quite true. Grantaire had believed in things, before that proved to be too painful, too difficult. It was easier to shield himself with cynicism than to give himself wholeheartedly over to everything, as Enjolras did. Enjolras made even the impossible look easy, because Enjolras was strong and capable and self-assured.

Grantaire believed in Enjolras like he'd never believed in anything else. Just when he thought he'd managed to exorcise his last ounce of faith, Enjolras had appeared out of nowhere with visions of a free world. And Grantaire poured every last pitiful drop of himself into Enjolras' cause, even as he knew how little that was worth. He thought that this might be the end of him, the last of his being burned up in the furnace of Enjolras' passion, and it seemed worth it, if only Enjolras would look at him with something other than disgust.

But Enjolras, who didn't care about Marius' lonely soul, certainly didn't give a damn about Grantaire's.


End file.
